The Useless Hero
by Lifelike
Summary: Boone's always been a spacefiller. Now he wants to be a hero. [Very light JackBoone SLASH]
1. Part 1

**Author Note:** Just know that I am NOT a fan of Boone/Shannon. I am a slasher, as you see later on in the fic. Hope you enjoy the fic. :) It's a little AU right at the end, but nothing too major. Just what should've happened, lol. XD

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Boone always had this feeling that he was replaceable, that he could be tossed aside, that he was only a surrogate for something better. He was a place-filler, someone who could take the place of a much needed object until the real person, the one who fit the requirements in just the right sense, came along.

In a way, it perfectly described his relationship with Shannon.

Shannon was a bitch, that much had been established since Boone had known her when they were kids. He could see past her girlish personality and ditzy laughs to the mean girl within. She was cold hearted and harsh. She would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. Boone blamed her father.

Of course, Boone didn't fancy himself to be much different. He was useless, too. But then, weren't replacements _supposed_ to be useless? Yet his entire life, he felt that, although he was useless coming from such a well-off family, he could do more than Shannon ever could.

Then came the time when everything spiraled out of control. At his sixteenth birthday, Shannon came down wearing a bikini top and shorts. Boone's birthday was in the summer and they were going to the beach. When Boone saw her, with her perfect pale skin and her smooth legs, he felt… squishy, odd, inside. At the beach he found it hard to talk to her because his tongue was swollen when she came near him. Even though she had her boyfriend, a muscle builder named Todd who only looked tough but was, in actuality, the world's biggest pansy _and then some_, Boone couldn't help staring.

This staring turned into an obsession. He found himself staring all the time, constantly, at her cleavage or her legs, the folds in her jeans, the strands of her hair. He was entranced. She had really pretty hands, slender and long with manicured nails.

He eventually told her, Boone did, about his love for her, and she responded. That night, Boone woke up entangled in her sheets. Her bathroom light was on and he could hear her crying. What was worse was the fact that his clothes hung on every ledge. He gathered them quietly and left.

Then she went to Sydney, without so much as a note to him, and called him out of the blue while he was with Stephanie, his girlfriend of two years. She sounded desperate and Boone got worried, and when he got there, the land of kicking animals, he found her fine.

His entire world crumbled. She had forgotten. Or maybe she hadn't, but she certainly acted like nothing had happened. And Boone got worried again. Worried that her new boyfriend hurt her. Boone had told her a thousand times that if she chose him, he would never hurt her, he would dote on her day and night, give her what she wanted when she wanted it, and would devote entire weeks to telling her how much he loved her. He thought girls liked that sentimental crap. Or maybe it was just Boone who liked it, he didn't know. And when she left that piece of shit, she came crawling back to Boone. It was then that Boone realized he was nothing more than a surrogate boyfriend.

When the plane crashed, Boone became even more of a spot, a speck, in existence. He didn't do anything great. He moved a couple of bags around and eyed the others with a glance that said, "Tell me I'm worth something." But no one ever told him anything more than what to do and how to do it.

He wished he could be like Jack. Jack was someone he looked up to. Jack was big and strong and reliable. He was a hero, the go-to guy, the one everyone simply adored.

And then… there was Boone.

What good was Boone on this place, anyway? What had _Boone_ ever done that was worthy of noting? He could name the time when he helped move those bags and the times he went with Locke to hunt boar, or what little boar there was, but other than that, he was the same as Shannon: useless.

Boone found himself staring again. Not at Shannon, because what good was Shannon when she was with Sayid? None, that's how good. No, he found himself staring at someone else. Someone big. Someone strong. Someone dependable. He found himself gawping like a fool at Jack. And boy, did he gawp.

Boone wasn't one for guys. Hell, he'd never even questioned his sexuality as a teen, but being on this island turned him back to being a teenager, when he didn't know what was right and wrong properly, when his existence had been royally fucked. He hadn't exactly been a normal teenager. Sure, he had pictures of girls on his wall, posters from the latest "wicked" action movies, some band merchandise and porno mags hidden under his bed, but when it comes down to it, most teenage boys don't fuck their stepsisters.

But this island, it _changed_ people. Boone was hardly an exception. Before even boarding that plane, if someone had told him, "You see the guy with the suit, the one who looks awfully depressed? Yeah, in about two weeks, you'll be wanting him" he would have scoffed in a snobbish fashion. But now he couldn't help it. He wanted Jack, he wanted Jack more than he'd ever wanted anyone, even Shannon. He wanted to feel Jack hold him, to have Jack kiss him. Oh, his thoughts took him many places, but none of them had ever taken him to such a warming place as Jack's imaginary arms.

When Boone and Locke went to the beach craft plane tangled in the canopy, Boone was certain that he would do something beneficial for the group. Even though his heart pounded with fear as the creaks of the plane that insinuated a disconcerting threat of a massive fall, he still reached for the radio. He hoped and prayed that he could make it out alive and get a rescue plane, and then _he_ would be the hero, and Jack would like him. And Jack would maybe even _love_ him.

Then the plane began to plummet, and the only thoughts in Boone's head were questions. Why hadn't he told Jack? Why hadn't he kissed him? What if he dies? Jack will never know if he dies; will Jack like him enough to try to keep him alive? The plane hit the ground and all that Boone was left with was blood and pain and his thoughts. He saw blinding white, the sky between the canopies, but he swore he saw Heaven too.

When Locke got him back to camp, Boone was unconscious, but awoke upon Jack's call. It hurt to talk. If it hadn't hurt, he would have called for Jack and told him everything. Jack promised him that he wouldn't die, but Boone knew that it was a promise that could not be kept. He knew he was going to die, because everything hurt and the blood wouldn't stop flowing.

Jack donated blood to Boone and as he went through that transfusion, getting paler and paler, Boone only felt blissfully happy that Jack cared for him. Even though he knew death was coming on swift and black wings for him, it gave him a tiny amount of hope to think that Jack wasn't willing to let go.

Jack proposed that they amputate Boone's leg. Boone wasn't awake for the decision, but as tears spilled down Jack's cheeks, he awoke and ordered Jack to wait in his hoarse voice. Jack paused and looked at Boone. It was the hardest thing to ask such a caring guy to just let him die, because Boone knew, somehow, that Jack did care for him. In fact, Boone knew that Jack loved him. This knowing of Jack's love sent Boone into euphoria, and suddenly death didn't seem so scary when Jack was holding his hand. And then Jack sent Michael away and kissed him.

Boone had never been so happy.

Shortly after, Boone found it unnecessary to live with the pain. He tried to relay a message to Shannon via Jack, but couldn't make the words out in time. The last thing he saw was an angel, and he could've sworn it looked like Jack.

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**A/N:** Hope you liked it. I do believe the end sounds a bit rough but I have to go to bed and I wanted to finish this quickly. ;3 Reviews are my sustenance!

Love, Rachel


	2. Part 2

**A/N:** Damn you Maddie! DAMN YOU! Second chapter as per request of Lirk.

Thanks for all the critique I received. I know I lacked dialogue. I do that a lot. I realize some people don't like it but I enjoy it because it sets a mood. And besides, I couldn't remember what they were saying during that... sceneish thing. Heh. ANYWAY... enjoy. :)

_Edit: I apologize! The first post of this part was cut off for some unknown reason and it made me really sad. D: So if you read it the first time, please read the rest. I'm REALLY sorry this happened. -Rachel_

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"You drugged me?" 

Kate smiled at Jack, and Jack, oddly enough, smiled back. There was something about Kate that intrigued him, like the fact that she cared as much as he did about things. The fundamental difference between the two was that Jack was unwilling to let go, whilst Kate let go lickety-split. She cared about his health, both physical and mental, since Jack's recent blood transfusion to Boone (though the subject was still touchy to Jack, who felt that he could have maybe saved Boone because there was so much he hadn't told Boone and so much he hadn't heard from him that it was even harder to let go of him) left him pale and weak. Jack was not a weak man, don't mix that up. He was just sensitive.

He wasn't sleeping either. He was distressed. It was understandable. After all, he did lose Boone, and he hadn't told him half of what he had wanted to say. And Locke... where the fuck was Locke, anyway?

"Sneaky," he said, and then he couldn't hold onto consciousness anymore. He closed his eyes and endeavored himself to sleep.

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Jack liked to dream. Dreams were a time when everything could be peaceful, or frightening beyond belief. Jack liked that. He liked how dreams were only full of raw emotion, the most powerful of all emotions, the pure essence of fear or happiness, the raw and clipped beauty of the wide spectrum of human emotion. In a way, he was in love with emotions and the effect they could have. 

Dreams were escapes, escapades, if you will, to different worlds and dimensions. They could take you to the wildest depths and edges of your imagination, to the summit of your fears and pits of happiness. And, they were versatile, leading one to destinations beyond anyone's biggest thoughts. And that is what intrigued Jack.

This had been his first sleep in days, and he assumed as he let himself drift into such calm that this sleep would be dreamless. But then, just as his eyes closed, there was white. Untouched and extravagant light.

Out of this light stepped Boone, and Jack's heartbeat either stopped or quickened, he wasn't really paying attention. Boone looked fine. No lacerations or scars, no blood, clean and well-kept, with a perfect, tranquil smile on his face. He was dressed like one would imagine a modern-day angel would dress, with a white button-down shirt and black pants (Jack was certain they were thin slacks, but he couldn't be too sure) that were cleaner than even articles of clothing kept in hospitals (and Jack could vouch that they were so clean you could sanitize a floor with them). Boone was surrounded with an ethereal glow and radiated handsomeness beyond the limits that Jack had set in his mind. And he stood there, smiling as if he achieved transcendence. He looked truly happy.

Jack felt like he was floating. Boone took a step forward; Jack followed suit. They continued in such a fashion until they were close together, and when Jack blinked he came to the realization that he was crying. Boone's smile curved up some more and his hand reached up to brush away a tear. It was silent, but it wasn't awkward. It was amicable, a silence that occurs when one sees an old friend. There was no need for words; they both knew what the other was thinking. So Jack leaned forward and brushed their lips together, gripping Boone's wrist firmly but gently, a signal that Boone couldn't leave now. It was long and simple, but contained so much longing and meaning that it was, quite easily, the most complex kiss that Jack had ever shared... with anyone.

Jack was the one who pulled away, and after a short while, he released Boone's wrist. Then he entangled his arms in Boones, wrapping them around his back and hugged him. He buried his head in the crook of Boone's neck and sighed. This was a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

"Hey," Boone said quietly. He hadn't stopped smiling. Jack liked that. "You haven't been getting sleep. Don't trouble yourself." He paused. "I'm happy here."

Jack lifted himself, pulled away and said, "If you hadn't died so soon, I... could've told you everything. _Everything._"

"So tell me now," Boone responded, simply. Jack sighed and looked around. It was just a white nothingness, yet solitude had never been so wonderful. Jack didn't know where to begin. There was so much to say and Jack didn't know how long he had to say it. Finally, he said, "This island... I don't know what it did or how it did it but... it changed me. And, if anything, it changed me for the better."

Boone laughed. "Me too."

"Anyway... after about... a week after we crashed, I began... to notice you." He laughed at himself. "I know, I sound like a nervous teenager asking out the class hottie." He stopped himself. "Maybe... maybe that's what you are, Boone. The class hottie."

"Not something I heard when I was in high school," Boone responded. "But... you continue. I want to hear _everything._"

Jack shifted his weight, which was weird considering this odd floating feeling. "Anyway, I started seeing you in this different light. You stood out as... this sort of unique person. I'd never seen or met anyone like you, you were someone new to me and what I was so accustomed to. You were Boone, and I was Jack, and... that's how easily I can explain it. Feelings like this are hard to explain, because you never quite know what they feel like until you've experienced them, and then once you do it's unlike anything you've ever felt." He grasped Boone's hand. "Best... feeling in the world."

Boone's smile grew bigger. "If only I told you how I felt, it would've saved everyone this pain, huh?"

Jack shook his head. "You didn't know, and neither did I. What happened, happened. I just wish we had more time."

"We have enough time now, Jack," Boone responded. And their lips met again. Jack wasn't willing to let go of Boone so quick, so he relished this kiss, letting Boone take control and then taking control, alternating between the two. Their noses bumped, their tongues met, everything seemed to balance each other out, and the life suddenly gained meaning, and death lacked all predisposed fear. All was justified by a single, tender kiss.

Boone pulled away this time, letting their lips slide apart and meet once more quickly before finishing. Their foreheads met, resting. Jack had found his arms around Boone's waist, Boone's were wrapped under Jack's arms and up his back. His cheeks were flushed, he looked like the picture of innocence.

"I don't want to leave," Jack said desperately, because Boone was sliding in and out of focus and Jack knew he was waking up.

"This isn't the last time," Boone said, and his smile was gone. "It will never be the last time, Jack."

He felt the sun and said, "I love you."

Boone began to fade. "I love you, too."

"Please don't leave me," Jack called. The white light was turning to black and to blue, the colors of the island, and Boone was halfway between smiling and crying. Jack felt tears pricking his eyes. "I'm not ready to leave, Boone."

But Boone just lifted a hand. And then there was the blinding white-hot of the sun, and Kate was there, handing him food.

Jack had never felt so well rested.

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**A/N:** If it sucks, apologies. Like I said, I'm getting this up tonight or I will never finish it. XD 

Reviews, yada... the drill.


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